Kanye West Quotes

I miss my mother very, very much.

In truth, 2007 was the hardest year of my life. I lost my best friend. I lost my father.

I can't bear it that Douglas isn't still here.

It's just hard," Harry said finally, in a low voice, "to realize he won't write me again

Grief is a very scary thing, and there comes a point where it can really take you down.

There should be a statute of limitation on grief. A rulebook that says it is all right to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 42 days you will no longer turn with your heart racing, certain you have heard her call out your name. That there will be no fine imposed if you feel the need to clean out her desk; take down her artwork from the refrigerator; turn over a school portrait as you pass - if only because it cuts you fresh again to see it. That it's okay to measure the time she has been gone, the way we once measured her birthdays.

It's a time of sorrow and sadness when we lose a loss of life.

Although there are times I'd give anything to have her back, I'm glad she went first. Losing her was like being cleft down the middle. It was the moment it all ended for me, and I wouldn't have wanted her to go through that.

He is no longer mine to lose, but the grief is there, a gnawing sense of disbelief.

Sometimes my grief is overwhelming, and even though I understand that we will never see each other again, there is a part of me that wants to hold on to you forever.

Grief is not just a series of events, stages, or timelines. Our society places enormous pressure on us to get over loss, to get through grief. But how long do you grieve for a husband of fifty years, a teenager killed in a car accident, a four-year-old child: a year? Five years? Forever? The loss happens in time, in fact in a moment, but its aftermath lasts a lifetime.

Grief, when it comes, is nothing we expect it to be. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.

Losing my parents was probably the hardest and deepest blow from which I've had to recover.

My grandfather's death was really hard to deal with.

I remember the day my mother died, and it's still hard to talk about it. I just blocked it out.

In December 1988, my mother died of lung cancer. I died too. I couldn't function.

When you lose your mother at 20 and then your father soon after, melancholia is part of your life.

I lost my brother when he was 30, and that was devastating for me. I don't know if I will ever get over it.

I was terribly wounded by my wife's death.

I've never really had anybody close to me die. I think the song is about a feeling that I have that, it still applies. It's a feeling of longing, once again.

Grief is exhausting.

There's something about losing friends, particularly young people, where it's not something that you get over. I don't believe there's a healing process.

It would be a lie to say that people are coming to adoption with joy at all times. Hope, perhaps, but it would be disingenuous to say that every part coming to an adoption isn't seriously grieving.

I cry a lot because I miss people.

When dad told me Mr Steptoe had passed away, I broke down.